


Shattering

by dreadqueenpersephone



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Depression, Multi, Purple Hawke (Dragon Age), Suicide Attempt, in my opinion purple hawke is super depressed, please take care of yourselves if you choose to read this
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-05
Updated: 2020-01-16
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:47:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,959
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21686254
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dreadqueenpersephone/pseuds/dreadqueenpersephone
Summary: "It was supposed to work. I’m supposed to be dead. Ha!" she was laughing now, the sound maniacal. Utterly wrong. "Marian Hawke, the buffoon that couldn’t even kill herself properly!" Varric didn’t laugh alongside her. "That’ll be a fun chapter for your book."At her lowest, Marian Hawke attempts the worst. Luckily she is saved in time and thrust down a road of recovery.
Relationships: Female Hawke & Everyone, Female Hawke & Varric Tethras, Fenris/Female Hawke, Isabela/Merrill (Dragon Age)
Comments: 12
Kudos: 56





	1. Escape

**Author's Note:**

> So, let me preface this by saying that I suffer depression and anxiety. I know firsthand how terrible it is for everyone when one attempts suicide. A lot of this, the feelings that come from both sides come from my personal experience. This story is, in a way, a way for me to reflect on the ordeal of such an attempt. 
> 
> Dragon Age II is very important for me. I've never connected with a character like Hawke, who despite possessing a cheerful front, has so much happen to them. I really got the sense that my Hawke would not be stable after all that, and kind of explored that through writing.
> 
> This story gets dark at times and the tone from Hawke's point of view is disorienting, but I promise it will end somewhere positive, if not in the middle.
> 
> Please take care of yourselves if you're reading this. While it is therapeutic for me to write, it can also be triggering. If you are in a bad state, please take a break and know that it gets better. I mean, I survived, so you can too if you've the same stupid illness. 
> 
> I've added some suicide hotlines here too, if you need: 
> 
> USA: 18002738255
> 
> United Kingdom: 08457909090
> 
> Canada: 18334564566
> 
> And this website if you want to find your specific region and need: https://suicidestop.com/call_a_hotline.html

‘Twas Marian’s third attempt to kill herself.

The first two clearly didn’t work. She had cheerfully inquired on what rat poison Anders used for his clinic pests, to be given a small sample that the stressed healer promised would get rid of her problem. Later that night, she had leaned over her balcony, shed a few dramatic tears, and downed the bottle. 

It was not as sweet as Orlesian tragedies made it out to be. There was no poetic speech, no gently falling asleep. Marian instead was violently sick minutes after, emptying the contents of her stomach all over her balcony. The poison, it seemed, was meant for rats, not just any old vermin. She was sick and suffering, but very much alive. Food poisoning, she explained to a confused Aveline, who dropped in the next morning with updates of the latest jobs in town. 

The next time she tried was a few weeks later, this time with a homemade concoction. Marian was too well known across town to purchase poison, and the beggar she’d bribed had just taken her money and run. So, it was time for her to dabble in potion making. She was immensely proud of herself for the steaming white potion. Unfortunately, she wasn’t a very good alchemist and threw that up as well, leaving her bedridden and delirious the next day, but annoyingly alive. She feared Anders was getting suspicious when she refused to let him near her when she was sick the second time. 

It seemed like the Maker didn’t intend for her to go by poisoning. That was fine. It only meant she would have to use a more old fashioned method. 

The day she decided to act was an ordinary one. She got lunch with Isabella, and settled some petty political squabble between the Arishok and the Viscount. She retired to her house and worked to get rid of Orana during their early supper. “Take the rest of the day off!” she said to her elven maid at the dinner table. 

Orana jumped at the sound of her voice. It hurt that she was still so anxious, but it couldn’t be helped for someone who’d gone through such horrors. Marian had hoped that having her join her dining table with her, Bodhan, and Sandal during the occasional meal would help her gain some confidence, but she was still as meek as a mouse. “B-- but-- my lady…” she said at last. 

“Hmm?” Marian asked easily, pretending to be invested in her steak. 

“You’d be home all alone…” 

That was the plan. She’d masterfully encouraged Bodahn and Sandal to go on vacation for a week and gave them an advance to do so, citing a need for some special runes. They had happily taken her up on it. Now it was just a matter of distracting her shy little shadow whom she suspected was put up to keeping Marian in sight at all times by some of her meddling friends. 

“Oh no!” Marian sighed dramatically, placing a hand to her chest. “You’re right! If you’re gone, how shall I protect myself from any dastardly foes?! Never leave me, my sweet Orana, or I shall never sleep peacefully at night!.” 

Orana covered her mouth to hide her smile. She couldn’t hide the soft giggle, however. She looked at a grinning Marian. “Forgive me, my lady. I know you don’t need me, but I would much rather stay in tonight.” 

“You’re not forgiven.” Marian said seriously, causing a flicker of fear to cross Orana’s face that vanished when Marian smiled. “I insist you go have some fun. Didn’t you want to check in with some of those friends you made in the Alienage?” When Orana still looked hesitant, Marian rolled her eyes. “You could also pick me up a bottle of vintage red on the way, if you want it to be official business.” She reached for her coin purse and handed her the amount required for a good bottle.

Orana looked down with a tiny smile, and pushed back the coin. “I think they have a tab for you, my lady. I shouldn’t need to carry coin with me.” 

Marian laughed heartily. “That settles it, then. Go on, you.” 

Her maid got up and instead moved to the stairs. “Let me just draw a bath for you, my lady.”

She resisted the urge to groan. “It’s alright, really.” 

“It won’t take long.” With that, she was off. Marian pushed aside her plate, with the little meat remaining and got up to go to her rooms. Orana was pulling out the tub and running about to fetch water. She waited for the maid to pull out scented oils and soaps, with soft washcloths meticulously draped over the side of the tub. Orana, Maker bless her, even got out a platter of fine cheeses and olives and put it on the table on the side of the tub. “Do you need anything else, my lady?” she asked, adjusting everything.

“This is perfect.” Marian reassured. “Thank you. Now go enjoy yourself.” 

Orana blushed and nodded, running down the stairs to get her cloak. Marian leaned out the door of her bedroom and waited for the grand doors of her house to shut before she retreated into her room and closed her own doors. She grabbed the key and locked the door, tossing it aside carelessly. 

Marian looked to the mess of letters on her desk with a frown. She had tried very hard to write compelling notes filled with good, logical reasons as to her choice before her first attempt, but couldn’t come up with anything worthy. ‘ _ I’m tired’ _ sounded lazy. ‘ _ I have no one left’ _ sounded whiny. In the end, all she had was a pile of crumpled papers. She considered trying again, but didn’t want the bath water to go cold. 

The bath water. There was really no point to it, but she figured it would be a waste to let a perfectly good bath go unused. It would also make it easier to clean up. She’d hate to be an inconvenience, after all. The gentle steam rising from the surface of the water was certainly calling to her too. She dipped a hand in and channeled some fire magic so the water was as hot as she liked it, near scalding, which always left her pink and steamed. 

Marian shrugged out of her tunic and stepped into the hot bath, wincing as she always did initially. Her brown waves fell around her shoulders. What was the point in tying them up? She let out a bark of a laugh at the thought that she’d be found naked and considered putting on a robe. She opted out, deciding to let whoever found her have that show. It wasn’t like she’d be around to face the consequences. 

For all her bravado, it took Marian time to summon the courage to move. Downing poisons was one thing, a simple action that she could almost pretend was like inhaling some potent Qunari spirits. This was another matter entirely, something that she was almost too cowardly to do. 

Almost being the key word. 

Marian uncovered the blade she’d hidden underneath of a rag beside the cheeses. She attempted to twirl the dagger in her hand, but dropped it. “Ah fuck.” she mumbled, pulling it from the water and holding it straight in front of her critically. There was no point in stalling now. 

First, to test the sharpness, she pricked the tip of her index finger, wincing at the prick of pain, but watching, hypnotised as the drop of blood fell into the water and stained it pink.  _ Just like me, ruining everything I touch.  _

After steeling herself for a few minutes, Marian picked her left wrist. The fair skin was already marred with scratches and shallow cuts from the past few months, yet she was still shocked by the pain that came with cutting into her skin vertically. Tears blurred her vision and she cursed loudly.  _ Coward _ . 

She clumsily did the other wrist with a shaking, blood-soaked hand and cried equally at that pain. She had done all that she could and threw the blade. It skidded across the wood of her floor with a loud sound, then stilled. 

Marian stared at her shaking, bleeding wrists as they dripped blood into the once clear water of her bath. She laughed hysterically at a thought. The Chantry had been wrong. Mage blood didn’t look any different than that of a non-mage. There was no black bile, but crimson rivers. The laugh devolved into weak sobs. All she could do was lean her head back and try to sleep. 

She looked to the ceiling as she slowly bled. The sight in front of her eyes was getting blurrier and blurrier. In a few minutes, the pain wasn’t even bothering her anymore, but everything was starting to feel so  _ cold _ . It was after she’d fallen into a restless state of unconsciousness, that she began to hear voices. The Maker sounded awfully familiar. And angry. Well, that wasn’t too much of a surprise. What she was doing was one of the greatest sins a mortal could do, according to the Chantry. 

It didn’t matter. Wherever she was destined to go after death, she was on the way.  _ Soon _ . She promised herself.  _ It’ll all be over soon _ . 


	2. Discovery

Orana was almost out of Hightown when she froze with a thought. 

_ Oh no _ , she thought with dread, covering her mouth with her hands,  _ how could I make such a mistake _ ? She knew that her mistress wouldn’t be angry with her. She had never seen anything near that emotion come from Marian Hawke. Still, Orana knew better than anyone that masters could be deceptive. It could take one mistake for this illusion of security to crack. 

With that thought, she hurried back to the Hawke manse, out of breath by the time she was fishing the key from her person. She unlocked the door and closed it behind her hurriedly, taking the time to warm her chilled hands by rubbing them together. After hanging her cloak, she ran up to the modest library and picked up the book on top of a messy pile, marked with a piece of red ribbon. 

Orana knocked on the door to her lady’s room gently. “My lady? Forgive me. I know you like to read in the bath… I have the book you were last reading. May I come in?”

Only silence greeted her. 

Was she mad? Even if she was, there should have been yelling. An order to leave.  _ Something _ . 

She tried the door. It was locked. “My lady? Are you alright?” 

More dread pooled deep in Orana’s gut at the resounding silence. Perhaps she had fallen asleep…. But she should have heard her knock. Something was wrong. 

Orana did the only thing she could. She ran downstairs to where a string of keys hung in what was supposed to be the servants’ quarters but really functioned as Orana (the only servant)'s quarters). Leandra had told her once, that there was a copy of all the house keys in case one ever needed replacement or Orana needed to get in to clean. There was never a need before as her lady barely remembered to lock doors, once brushing off her mother’s concern, saying “I pity the poor bastard that tries to rob me!” It fell to Leandra and Orana to keep the main doors locked… and later to just Orana. 

She tried out several keys on her lady’s door before one clicked in place. “Forgive me for intruding, my lady.” she said, swallowing before opening the door. 

Everything clicked into place in one horrifying,  _ horrifying _ moment as Orana took in the sight in front of her. She heard the sound of the book hitting the floor with a muted thud as she covered her mouth to muffle her scream. 

The bathwater that was once clear was crimson with blood. Marian Hawke’s blood. The woman lay in the bathwater with her head resting back against the tub, as if asleep. Yet, no one slept with such paleness to their visage. If the bathwater was not indication enough, the one wrist outstretched against the side of the tub, slit from wrist to forearm, revealed the violence done to her. 

Though her mind raced, Orana’s body remained frozen in place. She knew not what to do. Some cowardly part of her told her to  _ run _ . To flee before the body was discovered and Orana was blamed for the murder. 

Yet this was no murder. And Orana was no coward. 

She stepped forward and placed a hand against her lady’s white neck. She breathed a teary sigh of relief to feel a faint pulse. 

Orana tried, quite valiantly, to pull the prone body from the water. But the woman in the tub, besides being much taller than her, was much heavier too with her curvy figure. Orana couldn’t do it without risking further harm coming to her. 

She did the only thing she could do and ran to the closest help she could find. Knocking briskly, she waited with terse breath as footsteps slowly descended down a flight of stairs and to the door Orana was fidgeting in front of. 

Fenris, armed with a bottle of half-finished wine, opened his unlocked door to see the mousy elf that Hawke had taken into her household. “What?” he said shortly, taking a swig of bitter Tevinter red. It must have been trivial for Hawke to send her maid instead of coming herself. 

He stopped himself before he took another swig as he registered the raw panic on the girl’s face, as well as the blood on her hands. “What happened?” he tried again. 

“I--it’s-- she--she--in the bath--”

“Speak up.” he snapped, not liking what her words were implying or the way she was quivering. “ _ What happened _ ?” 

“My lady--she--” The girl looked down to her bloodied hands and started sobbing. 

_ Hawke… _ The bottle of wine slipped from Fenris’s fingers, shattering against the floor. He shoved past Orana, ignoring her cry, and stalked over to the Hawke estate. Feeling the blood pounding in his ears, he ran through the manse, up to where he knew her room to be. He slammed open the ajar door and could only gasp, willing the sight away from his eyes. “No.” 

He couldn’t hear anything but the world crashing around him as he fell to his knees in front of her. “No… Marian.  _ No _ .” She couldn’t leave him. Not like this. 

“She’s still alive.” Orana said, feeling for Hawke’s pulse. “I--I didn’t know what to do. I don’t--”

Fenris had heard all he needed to. In one swift motion, he pulled Marian from the cold and bloody bathwater and into his arms. “Get the mage.” he growled. “Now!” He tore strips off of the bottom of his tunic and began to wrap them around her still bleeding wrists. 

Orana flinched at the order but still dared to disobey him, grabbing a fur throw off of the bed and wrapping Marian’s naked body in it as best she could around Fenris’s deathly tight grip. Before he could scream further, Orana was off in a dead sprint. 

“Marian...” he could only say desperately as he took her pallid face in his hands. “You can’t leave like this. Please… please... Do not go where I can’t follow.” 

Marian Hawke should never have been this quiet. She should have woken up and giggled at the sudden sentimentality Fenris was showing. He kept talking to her to fight that terrible, cold silence, ranging from crying pleads to angry demands. She did not answer or stir, no matter how he begged. It was only the one hand on her neck that let him know she was alive with her heart’s slow, steady beat, proving defiant against the appearance of death her body had taken. “You must stay with me. You must, Marian.” 

He hardly noticed when the mage burst into the room and crouched beside Fenris. He asked him something that he didn’t hear. Instead of speaking to Anders with his normal poisonous words, he gripped his arm. “Save her. I’m begging you.” 

“I won’t do it for you.” Anders promised, also restraining himself from mocking the vulnerability Fenris was showing. “Help me move her to the bed.” 

Fenris swallowed and complied, taking her cold body in his arms and placing her on the grand four poster bed. Anders immediately unwrapped the frenzied job Fenris had done of her bandaging and hissed at the wounds. “I need hot water! And clean linens!” he called out into the hall. 

Orana already had them in hand and placed them by Anders side. “Will she be okay?” 

“She’d better, that idiot.” Anders scowled, placing his hands on the wounds on her wrists. Fenris felt the magic before he saw it, wincing in pain at the way it triggered the lyrium in his own body. Still, he refused to move. 

Fenris knew not what he was doing. For the first time in his life, he half-wished he had the ability to heal and felt disgusted with himself immediately after. All he could do was tightly hold Marian’s hand as Anders used his glowing blue magic to keep the woman he loved alive. 

Hours passed. Anders and Fenris remained fixed in their positions on either side of Hawke’s bed as one worked and the other worried. Orana must have sent word to their other companions as Fenris was drawn from his trance by a hand on his shoulder. A tired and devastated looking Varric. No words were exchanged. At first. “You should take a break, Fenris.” 

“You’ll have to drag my corpse from here.” Fenris snarled, tightening his hold on Marian’s hand. 

“Don’t bother.” Anders snapped. He was beginning to look ragged from the hours of magic. “He’s a permanent fixture in this room now.” His hands were at Marian’s chest now. Fenris could see the magic moving under her fair skin, flowing through her veins in blue trails. 

Merrill was next to show up, and to immediately burst into noisy tears at the sight in front of her. Varric tried futilely to reassure her, but everything he said was half-assed. He couldn’t promise that everything would be alright. He couldn’t even promise that Hawke herself would survive. It was only Isabela coming in and pulling the slight elf to her chest that muffled Merrill’s cries. 

It was when Aveline came in and began stuttering out the same questions that all of them had asked upon entering, that Anders finally snapped. He looked up from where he was working on a much more alive looking Marian with bloodshot eyes and his hair a rat’s nest of hair. “Enough! I can’t work with all of you in here! OUT! ALL OF YOU!” 

“I’d like to see you try--” 

“Come on, Fenris.” Varric said sternly, interrupting the furious words. “We’re not helping by crowding.” He tried to be gentler upon Fenris’s frantic look of desperation. “Hawke would want you to get some rest. Eat something at least.”

“She lost the right to want anything from me after pulling such a foolish stunt.” 

“You’ve been here for nine hours. Go.” Anders looked up from his work. “I’ll let you know if anything changes.” 

“Don’t be dramatic.” Isabela had come back into the room without Merrill or Aveline. She put a hand on Fenris’s shoulder. “You’re not the only one that cares about Hawke.” 

Fenris ignored them and looked to Marian. She didn’t look so ghostly anymore, and he could see the rise and fall of her chest. Still, from the way Anders worked, he knew she wasn’t safe yet. “You’ll let me know if anything changes?” 

“No. I just lied for fun.” Anders ran a hand through his hair. “Yes, you stubborn bastard. I’ll let you know.” 

“Very well.” Reluctantly, he let go of Marian’s hand. After giving her a long, lingering glance, he stalked past Isabela and Varric, out into the hall by her room. He sat himself down in that very hall, just outside the door. Varric, upon reaching him shook his head, but plopped down beside him, putting his head in his hands. For the first time, the dwarf didn’t have anything clever to say. 

The rest of their group joined the hallway vigil. The only one allowed in and out was Orana, who fetched supplies for Anders. She brought food for them all, but no one ate with any heart, Fenris refusing to eat entirely. 

It was well into the next morning that the doors to Hawke’s room opened and a grey Anders emerged. Fenris was up on his feet and had grasped the healer by his shoulders. “Well?” 

“She’s stable.” Anders said, shaking out of Fenris’s grip with irritation. “No more blood loss. Her circulation is back in order.” he smiled tiredly at them all. “She’s going to live.” 

Fenris seemed to lose his balance as he stumbled forward before running into the room Anders just left. Merrill began to weep again. Varric and Isabela let out relieved sighs. Aveline left the hall, making sounds that sounded suspiciously familiar to sniffling. 

Anders sat down on the chair Aveline had been using, and fell into a dead slumber right upon closing his eyes. Orana, despite being equally tired, made sure to drape a blanket around the mage’s shoulders before sitting on the ground for her much needed nap. 

Marian Hawke, despite her best efforts, was going to live to see another day. 


	3. Realisation

Marian was thirteen years old again.

Her bare feet met soft sun-warmed grass as she walked. The tall strands tickled her toes, causing her to smile at the sensation. The forest surrounding her was hazy, the trees around her flickering in and out of her sight. She kept walking through, pushing branches out of the way, until she reached a familiar clearing. 

Her heart caught in her chest as she approached the figure sitting on a well-weathered rock. The young girl with black hair pouted at Marian, kicking her too short legs from where she sat. “Aw, you found me!”

Marian got down to her knees in front of Bethany, taking her small hands in her own. “Of course I found you, silly girl.” 

“Tell Father I don’t want to do any more training today. I’m tired!” Bethany’s large eyes blinked in confusion when Marian didn’t reply. “Hey. . . Why are you crying?” 

Marian blinked away the tears that were obstructing the vision of her baby sister before her. “I— well, it’s just that your face is so terrible, my eyes started watering on their own.” As Bethany shrieked in protest, Marian laughed tearily. 

“Take it back!” Bethany cried, outraged. When Marian shook her head, she launched herself at her. 

Marian anticipated the familiar move and caught her in her arms before Bethany could attack. She retaliated by squirming out of her grasp and reaching to tickle her bare feet. They rolled around in a tangle of tickles that reduced them to giggling messes until they lay side by side under a blanket of grass, out of breath. 

The sky was achingly blue above her and the air honey sweet. All was right in her childhood dreams. “I missed you.” she whispered.

“I’m right here, sister.” 

This was not the childish voice she had just heard moments before. Marian turned her head to see Bethany, as she was when Marian had last seen her, a girl on the cusp of womanhood, smiling at her gently, her own head turned toward her. 

Her voice got caught in her throat. Bethany extended a hand, which Marian took shakily. “Yes. You’re here. I’m not leaving you again, dearest.” Marian smiled, squeezing Bethany’s hand. 

Bethany didn’t smile. “That can’t be. You know that.” 

Marian only grinned. “What do you mean? I did it. Finally.”  _ And now I’ll get to be with you and Mother and Father. _ _ Forever _ . 

“You can’t live in dreams, Marian.” 

Marian let out a nervous laugh and looked to the sky. There were clouds in it now, obscuring the clear blue. “This isn’t a dream. I’m. . . well. . . I’m dead, aren’t I? You’re here.” 

She turned to Bethany again, who only looked at her sadly. “Am I? You’re smarter than that.” 

“Bethany, what—”

“If I were really here...” Bethany looked from Marian to the darkening sky, a wistful look in her brown eyes. “I would tell you that it wasn’t your fault. That none of it was. But I’m just a figment of your imagination, right? 

“No!” Marian shook her head frantically. “No, you’re not a dream. I killed— I’m  _ dead _ and I’m here with you now.”

Bethany ignored her. “I’m not real. So, it’s not like you’d listen to me if I told you to be kinder to yourself. If you did, we wouldn’t be in this mess.” Bethany finally looked at her and smiled, so sweetly, so sadly, that it broke Marian’s heart. “I think it’s time for me to go now. I love you.” 

“No. No! Bethany, you can’t—”

“Goodbye, sister.” 

“NO!” Marian screamed as she felt Bethany’s hand ripped away from hers. 

She felt herself torn violently away from the idyllic field, and back into the dark hazy dreamland, where she wandered as a ghoul, unthinking and unknowing. Memories of Bethany, of everyone, faded as she fell in and out of darkness. Marian knew not who she was, where she was, what she was doing, only the heavy embrace of sleep as it covered her body like a shroud. And the pain. The pain that she felt deep in her bones. In her soul. 

Eventually. . . it could have been days later, it could have been years. . . Marian could see the faint flickering of candlelight behind her closed eyes and hear the softness of footsteps and muted whispers around her. Even later, she could smell leather, and bitter herbs. 

Somehow, decades later, she summoned the energy to open her ironclad eyelids. The sight that greeted her was too bright. It was a minute of lazy blinking that focused her vision enough to recognise her chambers, familiar in their furnishings of crimson. 

Everything hurt even more as her mind cleared slightly. Her throat was painfully dry and scratchy. Mother always did tell her to drink more water.  _ I really should listen to her from now on. Don’t want her to say ‘I told you so’ _ . . . 

Her body, while it hurt, was made worse due to how heavy it felt. Had she overslept again? It felt as if she hadn’t moved in ages. She tried to move her arms, but only felt dull, aching pain.  _ Fine, I guess I’ll just sleep more _ . 

Before she could close her eyes, she noticed another detail in her room that her hazy gaze had overlooked. She smiled blearily at the man with shaggy blond hair that was hunched over her body, his face drawn in concentration. “What the shit are you doing in my room, Anders?” she mumbled, wincing at how it hurt to speak.

He jumped up at that. She managed to register the stunned look on his face. “Oh, thank the Maker. . . ” 

“Heh, ‘m flattered, but I’ll just go by Hawke, thanks.” she murmured, trying to smile, but getting caught in a yawn instead. 

She looked back at him. The dizzy look of relief on his face caught her off guard. He looked a right mess. It was as if he hadn’t slept in days. While he normally looked sleep deprived, it was never this bad. And the hand he’d withdrawn in shock was glowing with blue light, confusing her newly awakened mind even further. 

“Hey Anders? Why do you look like shit?” she asked sleepily. She summoned the effort to move her hand to her mouth to cover the yawn she felt coming, ignoring how it felt as heavy as lead. “You should really take better care of yourself.”

“Take better—” What she really didn’t expect was the anger that rose in his eyes, the type of anger that was normally reserved for templars or the Chantry. The tears that gathered in his eyes confused her too, to the point where she wondered if she was imagining them. “That’s real rich coming from you!” he snapped. “Do you have any idea what you put us through? Look at what you did to yourself!” 

Marian froze, her eyes flickering to the hand at her mouth and trailing downward to the wrist. All she could do was stare at the arm, tightly bandaged from wrist to forearm. “Hawke? Hawke?! Are you even listening to me? Don’t touch that!” he snapped, stopping her from picking at the bandages with her other hand. “I’ve spent three days healing you. I won’t have you open those cuts and die on me now.” 

The arm she’d been holding up fell beside her in a heap. All Marian could hear was the word  _ die _ echo through her mind, the single word causing everything to rush back into her mind. What she had done.  _ Tried to do _ , she corrected herself as Anders continued to talk, the words going ignored by her. 

She also hardly heard the door slamming open with a loud bang. The commotion in the room must have apparently been heard from outside. A lone figure stood, still in the doorway, hand gripping the wood tightly. “You. . .” Marian saw prowl toward her in a rush of white. The look on his face almost made her cower back in terror. “ _ What were you thinking _ ?!” Anders moved to stop him as he advanced, but Fenris only pushed him aside with a rough shove. He reached Marian and she wondered if he was going to finish the job for her with how murderous he looked. Instead, he violently grabbed her by the shoulders. “You are the most foolish woman I’ve ever met!” 

Up close, he looked as bad, if not worse than Anders. His face was drawn with fatigue and his eyes were red and puffy. He fixed his bloodshot eyes on her, his gaze brimming with panic and fear. “Why, Marian?” he demanded, quieter this time. “Why would you do such a thing?” 

Marian couldn’t muster anything to say. Instinctively, she tried to summon an appropriate joke, but felt her mind falter as she was forced to look into Fenris’s desperate green eyes. All she could do was maintain his gaze, choosing instead to just refuse to hear what he was asking. 

Fenris wasn’t impressed by her silence. “Answer me!” he growled, shaking her so roughly that she saw stars. 

“That’s enough, Fenris.” A calmer voice broke in. Varric. “Aveline, Isabela, get him out of here.” Fenris cursed in Tevene and had to be pried from Marian by the two women. Still, he must have let himself be dragged out as he stared searchingly into Marian’s empty blue eyes. 

Marian, in turn, hadn’t really been looking at anything while Fenris was questioning her. She heard him be taken out, and she heard Varric mutter something to Anders that caused the mage to leave as well. Then, the door shut softly and Varric came to sit by her bedside. “You’re finally awake, huh?” When he was greeted with silence, he sighed tiredly. “It’s just me now, Hawke. You don’t have to ignore me.” 

She chose not to hear him, instead focusing on the crackling flames in the corner and their pretty colours. Orange, and yellow, and red. Red fire, red silk, red lips, red blood. Red always was her colour, wasn’t it? 

“ _ Hawke _ ,” Varric said firmly, making her flinch. She had never heard that tone from him before. “Look at me.” 

Reluctantly, she looked away from her thoughts and to him. Varric looked disheveled too, the circles under his eyes dark and his hair a mess. 

He was looking at her expectantly and she didn’t know what he wanted. All she could muster was a quiet “Why?” 

“Why are you alive?” Marian almost winced at the sharpness of his voice. “You have Orana to thank for that. She came back and found you before it was too late.” 

She tried to speak, but Marian’s words got caught in her throat. “It was supposed to work.” 

“It didn’t.” Varric said, more gently. “And it’s a damn good thing that it didn’t. You’re alive.” 

That was what finally broke the dam. Tears gathered in Marian’s eyes and obstructed her vision. “No no no no. . . Orana shouldn’t have— It was supposed to work. I’m supposed to be dead. Ha!” she was laughing now, the sound maniacal. Utterly wrong. “Marian Hawke, the buffoon that couldn’t even kill herself properly!” Varric didn’t laugh alongside her. “That’ll be a fun chapter for your book.” 

She didn’t realise when Varric had moved to sit on her bed and hug her. With a hand on her hair, she found no other place to rest her head than his shoulder as she released all her tears and angry words. “Why the fuck did you stop me? I  _ wanted _ to be dead! I— I’ll go to the Viscount and have you arrested for breaking and entering!” 

“No one forced entry, Hawke. Orana let us in.”

“She’s fired.”

“No, she’s not.” 

Her voice was still caught between breathless sobs and hysterical laughs. The more she thought about it, the worse everything got as she strewed curses at Varric for daring to want her alive. “I hate you.” 

“Doesn’t matter. I’m not leaving you.”

_ Everyone leaves me. I was just getting a head start. _

After another moment, it became all too much. “Varric. . .  _ Varric _ , I can’t— I—” the panic must have been clear in her voice as Varric drew back to stare at her in concern. She stared at him with wide, panicked eyes. “I can’t breathe!” she wheezed, her hands went to her throat in horror. 

“Stop that.” Varric pried her hands from her throat, where they had left bruising marks. “You need to breathe slowly, now.”

“ _ I can’t! _ ” Marian gasped, shaking her head frantically. Her tears were blinding her as she attempted to control her too-fast breaths. Bile rose in her throat, making everything all the worse. She heard Varric call for Anders and before she knew it, the two of them were moving her to the edge of the bed, lowering her head between her knees. 

She felt Anders’s cool magic at her chest. “Breathe in, Hawke. Not that fast. Follow my voice. In. . .” Shaking, she took a breath in, holding it. “Now out.” The breath was a choked gasp. “Again. In. . . Out. . . Good.” She followed Anders’s instructions until her body stopped shaking and her breathing was even. 

Once she was calm, she sat up and wiped her face with the back of her hand. Everyone else had poured into the room. She stared stubbornly at her lap, refusing to look at any of them, feeling tired and humiliated. In that quiet, seclusive state, she allowed herself to be tucked back into bed like a baby. She shut her eyes tightly, hoping they would think she was asleep and leave her alone. 

She didn’t sleep for a while, as her mind tried to understand everything that had just happened and to ignore all the quiet muttering around her and footsteps as people came in and out of her room. Her heart twisted with guilt when she heard Merrill come up to her and whisper sweet, reassuring statements of how she was going to get better. Merrill, the sweet girl, couldn’t understand how she was beyond all of that. How could she get better when she was never in a good state to begin with?

Things quieted down, and she felt the light changing. Evening must have fallen. The silence was broken when she heard someone pulling up the stool. 

Marian kept her eyes closed as those familiar callused fingers brushed her hair out of face, lingering at her cheek. She heard a sad sigh before he drew his hand back. He made no motion to get up as far as she could tell as she slowly grew drowsy. 

Maybe it was all a nightmare. Still, she didn’t know what the alternative to said nightmare was. Death? Before she tried to kill herself? Further back before she had lost everything? 

_ There is no waking from this dream _ , Marian thought with dread as she fell asleep.  _ I’m doomed _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience. So, things are only going to go up from here. Hawke, in this chapter is clearly not in a healthy state of mind, but it'll get better. Thanks for reading, and please leave a comment and let me know what you think.


	4. Moonlight

Marian woke to moonlight. 

It wasn’t said moonlight that awoke her, or even her body telling her  _ ‘Maker, you’ve slept enough, you lazy pile of bones’ _ . No, it was her very dry throat that itched with discomfort with every second. When she couldn’t ignore it, she growled with annoyance and flung the heavy sheets aside to sit up in bed. 

She reached over to the bedside table and drank straight from the jug of water, ignoring how it sloshed down her chin and onto her shift. She put it aside, and that was when she noticed the moonlight, falling through her open balcony in sweet, pale beams. 

Briefly, she was captivated by the way it illuminated what it touched. She ran her hand under the light of a moonbeam, reveling in how it made her tanned skin snow white under its light. The fanciful illusion was broken when she looked up her hand to see the medicinal white of the bandages. She yanked her arm back to her chest and looked away from the light, closing her eyes tightly. 

This was really happening, then. Sleep hadn’t taken her anywhere but back to the horrifying reality where she was discovered to have tried to kill herself. What was she to do? Laugh it off? Try again when she had the chance? Neither of those seemed feasible. 

Besides, she was starving. Any plans could wait until she’d filled her stomach. 

With the thought of food in mind, Marian got out of her bed, and stumbled for a moment at the shock of dizziness that came from moving too quickly. Once the world stopped spinning, Marian moved again, trying to find slippers for her bare feet. 

Once those were on, Marian dug around her empty room for her robe next. It was very appropriate to be bound to bed in a thin little white shift, but such attire would not suffice for the chill of Kirkwall nights. 

Marian noticed, with amusement, as she finally found her cushiest robe on the top shelf of her wardrobe, that her room had been cleared of all of her weapons. There wasn’t anything else even potentially sharp like her letter opener or hand mirror. That was why they felt okay leaving her alone in her room.

Fools they all were. If she were really determined, she would use her bedsheets to hang herself, or jump from her balcony. Neither was appealing, really. Marian hadn’t the dexterity to maneuver her sheets into a noose, and didn’t want to risk surviving a fall that wasn’t high enough to kill her for certain. She could set the house on fire, but then she’d risk hurting other people. 

_ You’re making excuses, you coward. If you were strong enough, you’d find a way at this very moment. _ A part of her mind whispered maliciously. 

_ That’s fine and all, but consider this… I’m hungry,  _ she countered. With that in mind she opened her door, intent on fixing her immediate problem. 

Her heart got caught in her throat as she saw the sight in front of her in the hallway. Her friends were strewn about, asleep in that hall leading to her room.

Varric and Aveline were on the left side of the hall, sleeping upright, with Varric leaning his head against Aveline’s broad shoulder. The guard captain looked defensive even in her sleep, with her arms crossed against her chest. 

Anders lay fully lying down, curled up into a ball, a foot away from Varric and Aveline, using a throw pillow embroidered with an ugly facsimile of a Mabari to cushion his head. He mumbled as Marian passed him, and rolled over to face the wall. 

Merrill found a more creative solution in using Isabela’s lap as her pillow. The two women lay across from the other three, with Isabela’s hand curled in Merrill’s short, inky locks. 

Marian stopped by the last person in the hall, by the stairs. Fenris. He slept upright too, though his head slumped forward. She knelt down in front of him, to peek underneath the hair obscuring her face, and couldn’t help but sigh at how young he looked in his sleep without anger marring his expression. She wanted to brush his hair out of his eyes, but refrained, getting up, to continue with her quest. 

She shot one last look at the hallway full of her sleeping friends and swallowed the tears that instinctively came to her eyes. Why they bothered with her, she didn’t know. She would have thought that it’d be obvious, especially after their discovery, that she was a lost cause. But they were still there, inexplicably. Why? 

_ Food, Marian _ , she reminded herself, turning away from them.  _ You can think later _ . 

She tiptoed down the stairs, wincing at every little creak that may have betrayed her. The first thing she did when she reached the kitchen, was grab for an apple in the bowl of fruit on the table. 

She looked for a knife to cut it, but came up empty. “Well, that’s too bad.” she mumbled, shrugging. She devoured the apple whole in what felt like seconds, and tossed the core to her side. The brief nourishment only amplified the hunger in her gut, so she scavenged for more food. 

That was how she was found by her panicked group of friends: head in a cabinet, with one hand holding a block of cheese, and a loaf of bread in between her teeth. She looked up at the noise, and stood up, wincing at the slight cracking of her back. “Hey.” she tried to say, but the sound was muffled by the bread. She bit into it and swallowed quickly. She knew how she looked. It was hard to project the confident front she was used to people seeing barefoot in a robe, with disheveled hair around her shoulders and what must have been a terribly sickly looking face.

Still, after looking at the expressions on their faces, Marian tried to grin. “Uh… lovely weather we’re having, huh?” 

Marian was expecting anger. What else would she expect, from the way Anders had snapped at her, and Fenris had blown up? What was worse, a thousand times worse, was Merrill running towards her and hugging her tightly, causing her to drop her food. “My cheese!” she protested weakly. 

Isabela came up to them and joined in the hug, wrapping her arms around both Merrill and Marian tightly. “Shut up, Hawke.”

At that, Marian couldn’t stop the tears that came to her eyes, so she buried her head in Isabela’s shoulder. When she felt as if she had control of her emotions, and that Isabela, who must have felt the moisture through her clothes, wouldn’t rat her out, she looked up at the rest of her friends with a grin, holding out an arm as an invitation to join. “Well, if we’re doing a group hug…?” The rest of them weren’t really huggers, but Marian couldn’t resist poking. “Come on, I could be dead.” 

“ _ Hawke! _ ” 

The smile fell from her face. “Sorry.” she said in a small voice, withdrawing her hand. Her and her stupid big mouth. Did she ever think before she spoke?

It must have been a blue moon that night, because somehow, the rest of her friends joined in on the hug one by one. Even Fenris walked over, with a hesitant look on his face and wrapped an arm around Isabela and Marian, clearly to avoid Anders on the other side. 

The horde of a hug was extremely awkward at first. Merrill and Varric were too short. Aveline and Anders too tall. There were elbows bumping into chests, Aveline accidently knocking Varric in the head, Fenris and Anders glowering at each other, and Merrill in the middle squeaking at being squished. But they settled into a comfortable huddle, with Marian being enveloped from all sides. With her not panicking at that moment, like when Varric last hugged her, Marian couldn’t help but be comforted by being held so. She was a physical person, and realised she couldn’t last remember being held, feeling protected. It was probably a sign of weakness, but she couldn’t find herself caring too much. 

As they stayed in that huddle, Marian let their words wash over her. She had made a mistake. Her mother wouldn’t have wanted this for her. They cared about her. She should have told them that she was feeling bad. Things would get better. She hummed along in agreement at each statement, not really absorbing the words, but not wanting them to think she wasn’t listening. 

She pulled away reluctantly, when she felt her eyelids grow heavy once more. “I think I’m going to go back to bed… For what it’s worth, I am sorry for all the trouble.” she said to them. “You don’t have to stick around. I’ll be fine alone.” 

She got stern looks for that. “That’s not going to happen.” Aveline said, crossing her arms.

“Not after all that work it took to patch you up.” Anders added.

“You need watching over, Hawke.” Varric said, more gently. “For your own good.” 

“Do what you want, I guess.” Marian grinned, rubbing the back of her head, moving towards the stairs. “But can you stay in the guest rooms, at least? They’re empty and have to be better than that hallway.” 

“We can do that.” Varric said, patting her on the arm. 

She gave him what she hoped was a confident smile, and began to climb the steps, only to stumble over her feet. Before she could fall, she was caught around the waist by strong arms. The dizziness cleared and she laughed nervously to try and save face. “What? Going to carry me, Fenris?” she quipped. 

Maker damn her stupid, big mouth.

Marian yelped as Fenris easily scooped her up into his arms. There were few chuckles at that, to which she stuck her middle finger up behind Fenris’s back without looking. As they walked through the hall, Marian wanted nothing more than to wrap her arms around Fenris’s neck, but kept her hands to her chest, trying to chase away the color she felt rising in her cheeks. 

She peeked up at his face, to see him pointedly avoiding her gaze. Her heart fell at that, but she couldn’t blame him for being disgusted by her. Whatever slim chance she’d had at winning him back was gone forever now, wasn’t it? At least she didn’t see the fury from earlier. 

Fenris put her down by her bed, and watched her climb in. Marian tried to smile at him, but felt like it came out as a grimace instead. He didn’t say anything, but she saw his hand twitch, like he wanted to reach out for her. He kept it to himself though and moved for the door without turning back. 

Marian watched him go, and sighed to herself. Though she was in quite a predicament, she decided to try and deal with it the next morning. At the very least, things weren’t as bad as they were last time she had woken up.

Sleep came to her easier that night, dreamless and heady, leading Marian to the next day, the next battle, like a gentle guide. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a little later than I was expecting. Sorry! But it's here. Thank you so much for the kind reviews. They really make my day. I hope you tell me how you find this chapter. Things are definitely starting to look better for Hawke now, I think.


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